


Stockholm

by SickOfSunshine



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Dreams, F/F, Finally I have wrtten a fic not to do with a song, Not Canon Compliant - Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, Stockholm Syndrome, Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-22
Updated: 2017-10-22
Packaged: 2019-01-21 03:46:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,029
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12449016
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SickOfSunshine/pseuds/SickOfSunshine
Summary: After meeting Bellatrix Lestrange in the department of mysteries Hermione begins to dream about her. After her 17th birthday those dreams take a dark turn on which leaves our golden girl confused and insanely needy.





	Stockholm

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first thing I've genuinely put this much effort into in a while. I've always had an idea around what occurs at Malfoy manor, Dreams and slight Stockholm syndrome. But no matter how hard I tried I could never finish anything. But my god did i finish this haha enjoy. 
> 
> P.S. Thanks diz3ster for being my beta yet again.

Hermione couldn’t remember when it started. The dreams. Although she thinks they began in the summer just after Sirius’ death. She didn’t mention them to anyone as everyone was already so worked up. She didn’t want to be a burden. Nonetheless, she does remember the first time the dreams _changed_.

They started out simple enough. She’d be running through the department of mysteries just like _that_ night. Then suddenly she would be alone, abandoned in that eerie place, a million luminous globes staring down at her. Then came the laughter; that infamous cackle. The sound would surround her – possess her as a cloud of black smoke spun and glided between the shelves around her. Sometimes there would be whispers and flashes of green other times she would be face to face with those dark onyx eyes and uncontrollable raven locks.

It was the night of her 17th birthday when the first dream altered. Classes had only just begun and even in the highlands of Scotland the weather was still summer through and through. No longer were there just glimpses of a dark presence. Now In her dreams Bellatrix Lestrange would stand above her, the woman’s aroura screaming dominance.

The Gryffindor still remembers every detail of that dream, how the callous woman sauntered around her in circles as if she were a wolf about to pounce. If Bellatrix was the predator then Hermione would willingly succumb and take her place as prey. She remembers a hushed voice in the back of her mind telling her to run, _to fight it_. But a strange sense of calm washed over her and so she surrendered her body to the dark witch.

To an outsider it would have looked like some twisted ritual as a once stubborn, sensible girl submitted to the very evil she was supposed to be fighting.

It happened nearly every night after that. Hermione would wake, panting, a light sheen of sweat covering her glowing skin. After a week or so she had determined it be best to cast a silencing charm around her bed each night lest she wake the whole dormitory with her frantic whimpers and moans.

A month or so passed and the burette began to question what was real and what was not. By now she had learnt to rise before the others and retreat from her ruined bed sheets to the prefect’s bathroom. There she could soak out all the toxins from the night before and be clean once again. No one ever bothered her as the sun was barely in the sky – which to our heroine’s delight bathed the room in a golden hue. The auburn light from the early morning sun reflecting off the many ornate mirrors and tiles creating an almost mystical sight.

One October morning, whilst washing, she noticed a pain around the flesh of her hip and so inspected it through the crystal water. At first, she thought her eyes were playing tricks on her. _That can’t be._ She had thought. There, just above the flesh of her left hip, lay the dark purple imprint of 5 slender fingers contrasting against her porcelain skin. In a panic she quickly surveyed the rest of her body looking for any other sign of injury – not knowing exactly how she felt about it.

With wide eyes she gently stroked over her inner thighs which were branded with light scratch marks leading up towards her centre. But it was only later that day, after a full day of classes and keeping Ron and Harry out of trouble did she notice the deep red and violet bite marks scattered around the flesh of her neck and collar bone. _No wonder I’ve been getting strange looks all day, Ron had practically looked mortified this morning at breakfast. The others must have noticed too ‘cos I remember Harry and Neville blushing whenever I looked at them. Merlin’s beard they are going to think I’m a harlot._

It went on like this for the rest of year. Hermione waking up most nights fingers sticky with her own wetness. Arising before the others and going for her early morning bath just to see all the scratches, bites and bruises left over. Then having to cast glamour charms to hide them from the rest of the world lest they ask questions. As time went on she would remember the dreams more clearly. No longer were they a quick haze of onyx eyes staring into her soul and claiming her. Now they seemed to last for hours. The golden girl would wake aching and exhausted on most days.

Professors had started to notice how she would stare off into space during lessons instead of raising her hand after every question. Harry was too wrapped up in whatever had his scar stinging this time and Ron too busy sticking his tongue down Lavender Browns throat. The only two who seemed to have noticed were Luna and Neville who would give her sad looks across the dinner table. It almost made Hermione anger; to see them pitying her.

Things at Hogwarts slowly become more heated as less and less students felt safe in the castle, even the professors looked on edge. The night of Dumbledore’s death Draco hadn’t been the only one in the room of recruitment. Hermione had been searching for an ancient book on old magic when she heard the familiar mumbling of the Slytherin boy. She followed him – watched in dismay as the small group of death eaters glided out of the vanishing cabinet.

But then she saw her - Bellatrix Lestrange. The woman who haunted her dreams was _here_ in the castle. Hermione was frozen in place as she dragged her eyes over the death eater’s body. Suddenly familiar dark eyes found hers and the younger girls breath stopped. The dark witch smirked at her as the death eaters followed Draco out of the hidden room.

Just as Hermione was about to run she felt the warmth of a body press against her. Instantly knowing it to be that of Bellatrix due to the feeling of too firm breasts being pushed into her back. But before she could push away a slender arm wrapped itself around her waist and a soft hand covered her mouth.

“Hush now muddy we wouldn’t want anyone finding out about our night time activities would we.” The older witch chuckled her warm breath falling against Hermione’s neck as Bellatrix took her hand away from the brunette’s mouth and instead used it to tilt the younger witches head to the side, displaying the pale skin of her neck.

The Gryffindor couldn’t manage to speak a word as the death eater brought her ruby lips down upon her throat. A quiet moan escaped Hermione’s mouth as her knees went weak. She was powerless. Powerless against this creature. This succubus.

Bellatrix’s hands were everywhere and nowhere all at once as if time had slowed down. Her lover was gone before she had time to process and she fell to her knees as her body felt like it had just melted into a puddle.

By the time the younger witch had managed to compose herself and run to tell the others there were death eaters in the castle it was too late. The crowd had gathered around the headmaster’s frail body and Harry was knelt next to the old man sobbing.

It was then Hermione decided she had to push aside this infatuation and continue to aid Harry in the hopes of winning this godforsaken war.

The muggle-born hardly dreamt after that and when she did she woke with cuts and bruises worse than ever before. But she never complained – she knew it was punishment for defying _her._

She distracted herself with the bullshit adventure Harry had dragged her into and ended up on the run, keeping Harry and Ron alive just as she always had. That was until the snatchers found them. The realization sunk in that they were all probably going to die. _But hey at least we are together._ Hermione had thought. At this point she was too exhausted to even think of a plan. Living of the same mushroom soup every day in the company of the same two people for months really does take its toll on your brain.

Although being so tried didn’t stop her from being terrified. As soon as she spotted Fenrir Greyback she was _petrified_. She had heard the stories about him – how he liked to defile young woman. She prayed she wouldn’t be left alone with him as she wouldn’t stand a chance, not against a _werewolf_.

Next thing she knew she was in the drawing room at Malfoy manor watching as Draco timidly tried to identify the trio. _Poor Draco he may be a prat but he doesn’t want to be here. He never did._

Hermione had been so focused or gripping onto Ron she hadn’t even noticed a once familiar dark witch’s presence. But then the atmosphere changed, it went from feeling almost desperate to deathly silent in seconds as Bellatrix Lestrange stared down a death eater with a look that can only be described as one of medusa herself. As if at that moment the shrill of a man holding that sword should have not only turned to stoned but shattered and burst into flames too. Within seconds the snatches ran from the drawing room all the while clutching their throats still struggling to breathe after being met with the sharp end of Bellatrix’s whip.

The eldest Black spun on here heels and approached the trio with vigour. “Cissy..” She almost whispered. “Put the boys in the cellar, I want to have a little conversation with this one. Girl to Girl!”

After pushing the two boys in the direction of Wormtail Narcissa ushered her husband and son from the large room not wanting her son to witness what was about to take place.

Hermione’s backed pushed against the black marble walls as her once lover approached – a fire in her eyes. “Now now muddy no need to be afraid.” The dark witch spoke almost softly as she stroked her prisoner’s cheek. “It has been a while since you and I last had a night together…” Her voice now lowered and husked. “So why don’t we have some _fun_ eh?” With the last word the older witch pushed her body flush against Hermione’s, pushing her toned thigh in-between the girl’s legs.

The gasp that escaped the younger witch brought a genuine smile to Bellatrix’s face and for a moment Hermione saw a flicker of softness in her captor’s eyes. The lieutenant shook her head and dragged the brunette to the floor. “We are going to play a game. I will ask you a question and you will answer with the truth. If I suspect you are lying I will punish you – in fact I might do that regardless!” Bellatrix cackled throwing a cruico at Hermione for good measure. “Understand?”

A shaky nod was the only reply. 

“That sword was in my vault at Gringotts _how_ did you get it?” She spoke circling the girl on the floor, hips swaying. For a moment Hermione was taken back in time as she noticed how Bellatrix’s leather corset amplified her curves and pushed her plump breasts together in the most prefect way. But she was snapped out of her thoughts as Bellatrix was suddenly pinning her down mouth pressed against her ear. “I believe I asked you a question _mudblood_.” The dark witch spat biting down on Hermione’s ear lobe to get her point across. Alas all that did was drag another soft moan from the younger girl’s throat. No matter how scared she was she couldn’t deny the way every word her tormenter spoke sent a stream of heat straight to her centre.

“Are you enjoying this muddykins? Being under me again. A witch you should despise bringing you such bliss. What would Potter say?” She mocked. “Never mind that, you broke the rules. How should I punish you?... Oh, I know just the thing.” Hermione’s breathe caught in her throat as Bellatrix drew out a brilliant silver dagger from her cleavage.

Each time the Gryffindor disobeyed blood-curdling screams could be heard throughout the manor as single letters were craved into soft flesh.

By the time Ron and Harry had managed to escape the dungeon it was too late. Hermione was drifting in and out of consciousness with a brand-new scar still dripping the purest colour of all. Funny how Voldemort thought Muggle-borns unworthy when their blood looked just like any others.

Then she was in Bella’s arms again - dagger held against her throat. It should have made her want to scream but unbeknown to the others it gave Hermione a slight sense of comfort, even after of being tortured and branded by the very same woman.

But before the young witch could cling onto the strings of that black leather corset she was being thrown across the room again as the grand chandelier fell from the high ceiling almost crushing her and her beautiful captor.

There was shouting and spells being thrown as our heroine was lifted from the ground and into the arms of another. Hermione felt a familiar pull at her navel as the world around her began to blur. Onyx eyes starred into hers, a thousand emotions flickering there.

No one could understand why Hermione Granger made the choice she did. Ron and Harry tried to convince the others that something must have gone wrong but they knew. They knew that the only way to get out of apparition _was to let go_.

With every piece of strength she could muster she pushed away from her friends. Pushed away from safety and fell to the cold marble floor seeing the dagger just miss her, instead flying over her and disappearing in the swirl with a pop.

The last thing she saw before her body gave way to slumber was the woman that haunted her dreams walking towards, her kneeling slowly and taking her face in her hands gently. “Bella…”

* * *

 

It had been difficult for Bellatrix to convince the dark lord to let her keep her pet. To prove her mudblood was purely for entertainment purposes. She was forced to torture her once again, but this time in front of the inner circle. Our dark witch obviously had no problems “playing” with her pet but the looks from the disgusting brutes around that table was enough to ruin it for her. Hermione was hers. And it infuriated Bellatrix to have to display her toy this way.

After a solid hour of cruicos and other means of torture the dark lord was finally convinced the “Mudblood” wouldn’t stray when he saw just how Hermione would cling to Bellatrix and look up at her with only hope and adoration in her eyes.

He devised a plan to lure Harry back to the manor; A plan that succeeded. Ron and Harry had demanded of the order that they send an army. Everything they had to go rescue Hermione. Obviously, the adults saw how hopeless that would be. Every person they sent would be slaughtered. If a battle was to take place it had to happen on their territory or they didn’t stand a chance. There were outnumbered.

But without Hermione’s guidance Ron managed to convince Harry to go anyway. They decided they could use Kreacher to gain access to the manor as an elf could pass through the wards. They travelled alone – thinking that it would be better to sneak in and sneak out again instead of marching on the place.

But when they got to the dungeon, Hermione was nowhere to be found. Luckily for them most of the death eaters that night were either out on raids or asleep. So they crept up from the dungeon and searched the first floor of the manor.

Ron became frantic and tears welled in Harry’s eyes as they began to lose hope, realizing just what a stupid idea it had been to _literally_ walk into the wolves’ den. They decided to search the dungeon one last time. Maybe they had missed a secret chamber? Maybe they were other cells?

They were skulking through the main marble hallway which held two huge elaborate staircases leading deeper into the manor when they heard it. The all too familiar wails of Hermione Granger.

Without so much as a blink they bolted up the stairs in the direction of the screams. They ran through a maze of hallways as the cries got louder, not realising those “shouts” didn’t just seem to sound of pain.

Reaching an intricate mahogany door, the boys eyes met and without communication they fired a bombarda at the door in unison.

As the smoke cleared they saw what was laid out in front of them. It was far worse than they had anticipated. Far far worse. The friend they treated like a sister was sprawled akimbo wrists tied to bedposts with the infamous death eater Bellatrix bloody Lestrange’s head bobbing between her slick thighs. Hermione’s moans grew to a crescendo and her arms pulled against her restraints as that murderer dug her nails into her pet’s hips.

Ron stood there as Bellatrix looked straight into his eyes while pleasuring the girl he loved before firing an avada kedavra his way. But Harry. Harry ran, he realised too late it had all been a trap. He called for Kreacher but the elf never came and by the time he reached the way out. Voldemort was already waiting. Stood in the doorway blocking his exit.

Harry fought his hardest but Tom still had his horcruxes and so on that night the chosen one perished. News spread quickly and the wizarding world bowed down in fear to its new “Leader”.

Of course, for Bellatrix this was all she had ever wanted – to stand by her master’s side as he broke and bent the world as he saw fit. And for Hermione well, as long as she had Bella she was happy.  

Stockholm syndrome has a way of doing that to people.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Let me know what you think, I'd love to here your thoughts!


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